I wrote this when I was 14.

The flowers are falling
And Padric is dancing
Dead petals keep calling
And Padric is dancing
His feet touch the ground
And kick up soft rainbows
With hardly a sound
As onward he goes
The leaves arch behind
And they all let him through
The flowers don’t mind
And they all are on cue
The nectar is sweet
And her fingers are warm
She sits at his feet
As they blow back the storm.
The rose was so fine
And so bold and so red
Its stem a straight line
It’s eternally bled
And Padric he danced
While the blood oh so dead
Fell down as he danced
Through the deep glowing red
Oh life it is more
Than Padric had guessed
The death that life bore
From the rose’s dead breast
She knelt and he sang
But he faltered in that
The petals all rang
As she waited and sat
She returned, all for love
The petals grew new
He drank blood for love
Mixed with ancient dew.
He’s dancing, he’s dancing
The flowers are dying
He’s blind when he’s dancing
The girl she is lying
Smiling, she swears
That everything’s fine
Crying, she stares
At the rose’s soft vine
The flowers are falling
And Padric grows leaves
She’s desperately calling
Because she believes
He turns to the sun now
Instead of to her
She knows it’s begun:
He’ll forget about her.
His petals are white
So achingly pure
He’s just out of sight
And now she is sure
She can’t stand the sun
So she looks to the ground
Where they’d danced and run...
Falling, she makes no sound.
Her petals blood red,
She now is the rose,
She now is the dead,
Is the bleeding old rose.
It falls down like rain
Padric dances between
Drops of blood like rain
But the rose goes unseen
So the rain doesn’t stick
She dreams still of dancing,
And Padric, oh Padric ...
Still, Padric is dancing.

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